A Dance of Ice and Fire
by Angelique loves books 56
Summary: Welcome to the world of the obscene. Welcome to the world of lust. Welcome to the world where the boundaries between love and hate are thin. Welcome to Paris. Judge Claude Frollo, the gypsy-loathing man who is entrapped in chains by his own lust gives sensuous gypsy Esmeralda an ultimatum: To chose him or burn. They are polar opposites- fire and ice, night and day. Can they love?
1. Chapter 1

"The Dance of Ice and Fire"

Author's Note: This is my first Fresme FanFiction, so please be easy to the newbie. (Not that you, dear readers, will have to be.) Please review- as I said, I absolutely relish constructive criticism. The only flames allowed for this story are Frollo's Hellfire, sadly. Any bashes against our dear Claude within this story were quite sad to write. This story is based on 1996's version of _The Hunchback of Notre Dame; _I am still reading the epic novel by the great Victor Hugo. I promise to update if you review.

Disclaimer: I do not own HoND, as much as I'd like to. That belongs to Victor Hugo (R.I.P) and Disney.

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

-Robert Frost

"The time has come, Gypsy. You stand upon the brink of the abyss. Yet even now it is not too late. I can save you from the flames of this world, and the next. Choose me…or the fire."

Judge Claude Frollo leered in to my face, practically purring in his sensuous baritone voice; the voice that always seems to unnerve me. He grasped the fiery torch in his long, spidery fingers-The torch that would mean my life…or my death. His dark-colored judicial cassock swished as he reached to touch my cheek. I growled. If my hands were not bound on this pyre, oh, what I would do to him…I hate that man more than words can express…

My gypsy comrades were maliciously locked up in cages, prepared to watch me burn. Then they would go to prison, and even die when that evil judge said the word because I wouldn't be his. Said judge had already burned down most of Paris in a desperate manhunt to find me and make me his after I charmed him and publicly showcased him for the fool that he was. Therefore, he started a public 'bonfire' in this Paris square to hold my trial and give me a dangerous proviso. _Me or the fire? _Placing my on this platform, my pyre, was a communal act of pure maniacal psychopathy.

The shadows of the night gave the fire in the torch an ethereal, dancing quality- vibrant red and orange flame licked the air hungrily-Hungering for the burning of my flesh, no doubt. I could not fathom the unadulterated lust in his eyes, yet I had seen that same look on his imperious visage countless times. _If looks could kill…_ Weighing the options of the ultimatum Frollo gave me, I attempted to form coherent thoughts to no avail, until I saw his steady hands completely prepared to send me to where he believes I belong.

Hell. The Fiery Pit. Eternal Damnation. Hades. In the Judge's eyes I was a demon of Hell sent to torture him with my wanton dancing and my _heathen gypsy ways._

Damn him. Damn him to fucking Hell.

Do I fear death? I never did until I stared it in the face, as I did now. Frollo's face was the exact embodiment of my fate. Of my death. The mere thought of my impending doom forced me to contemplate my choices.

Death?

Life?

Damnation?

Frollo?

Survival?

Fire?

I do fear death; I've already admitted it, but becoming Frollo's mistress, his wife, his companion, scared me more than death ever could. This man-this Monster- had enforced semi genocide on my people, for God's sake! He had treated every person who crossed his path with his infernal 'holier than thou' attitude, causing every gypsy man, woman, and child to loathe him with a burning passion. Frollo was a sadist, a lustful abomination, I absolutely abhorred him. A pyromaniac. A judge, but that damn self-righteous bastard couldn't judge right from wrong even if it was in front of his abnormally large and crooked nose! I cannot even imagine living with him, nonetheless _serving him _as a wife is supposed to. Ugh. That thought made me cringe with disgust.

I knew full well that Frollo, now smirking devilishly at my indecision, would only free my friends and family he had trapped before my mock-trial if I chose him. I always had considered myself as unselfish and fairly compassionate, but just for a second I was seriously considered spitting in his face and dying rather than being with him, at the expense of the incarceration and even death of my fellow gypsies by Frollo.

And then there was Phoebus. That golden-haired man had caught my heart and swept me up in a tumble of cliché filled romanticism that, when it left, it left my soul vacant. I fell out of love quickly with Phoebus. Too quickly that I didn't have the heart to tell him. I rapidly found him to be more and more revolting, dim-witted, annoying, and self-centered. Despite this, I didn't wish him harm. I did wish Frollo harm though- a lot of harm. Why couldn't those dark, obscene robes of his simply catch fire and burn him until he was a pile of ash? Why couldn't he just collapse and rage in Hell, where he is destined to go?

"Well, gypsy? What is your decision? Me or the fire? Choose!" Frollo was normally a fairly patient man- not with _his _women; I suppose it would be in his eyes. I _would never be his woman, _I silently vowed. _Never._

That same indomitable, steel will of mine rose up again, as hardy as ever, as I took a breath to reveal my choice. The choice that would determine the fate of my people, and of me. I was positively certain my face was twisted with undisguisable hatred and stifling fear. _As if Frollo would care- that sociopath._

"Well? Well! What is your choice witch?" Frollo's silver hair slipped out of his chaperon as he leaned forward even further to threaten me with the fire- it reflected maliciously in his gleaming obsidian eyes. He faced the crowd. "Will you recant your sins of treason and witchcraft, of which the penalties are death? Or will you let me send you whence you came through the fires of Hell? Decide or I will burn you!"

"Do you even dare burn me, you coward?" I had finally found my voice and I was intending to us it to my advantage. I glared at him devilishly; I tried to smolder him with my 'harlot' gaze that I used when I danced on his lap at the Festival of Fools.

"Do I dare- gypsy vermin? Do I dare? I will show you God's consequences for insolence! I will show you submission! _I will show you fire!_ Hellfire!" his voice rose to new heights; I tried to keep my appearance calm, collected- unfortunately that didn't work.

"Wait! Stop!" cried Phoebus.

"Silence!" screamed Frollo.

"Justice!" Yelled Clopin, who was quickly silenced by one of Frollo's soldiers with a savage kick to his cage.

My friends… my family, in cages- I could not stand for it!

The crowd of townspeople and soldiers erupted into a large roar, a cacophony of angry noise and screams of pain as the guards attempted to subdue the pandemonium. I have waited too long.

"I have made my decision!" I shouted over the pandemonium. Simultaneously, the crowd fell silent, the now silent voices echoing in the night, tense to hear my decision.

"Judge Claude Frollo," I said reluctantly, "I chose you."

_I was past the point of no return._


	2. Chapter 2

A Dance of Ice and Fire- Chapter 2

Author's Note: I'm on a roll here guys! Two chapters in three days! *Patting myself on the back* Well- anyway, our dear Esme has chosen Frollo…You all know what this will lead to, right? Angst, angst, and more angst. Don't worry, dear viewers, romance will come sooner, rather than later to our protagonists. Please review? ;)

(Frollo's POV)

I, the great Judge Claude Frollo, could hardly believe my ears. I stared at Esmeralda incredulously, a smirk slowly forming on my thin lips. A smirk that said _I am victorius. _Indeed, I did feel victorious. I had won! The gypsy had recanted and chose me! I reveled in my conquering emotion at that moment: Lust- I let it wash over me in waves of pure, unrestrained pleasure, and I dared to full-on smile at the crowd. Of course, in all probability, I appeared more menacing than self-satisfied to the onlookers; after all, fear _is_ more powerful than love.

"The gypsy Esmeralda has recanted her crimes of witchcraft!" I shouted, raising my arms heavenward. A select few of the Parisian citizens in the crowd who were expecting a bloodbath worth watching- much like sharks- groaned in disappointment. They started to stride out of the square, as fast of those leaching louts had come. Gypsies galore looked dumbstruck, as only heathens can, surprised at Esmeralda's decision, ostensibly; my faithful guards continued to, well, _guard them._

"Regarding the fate of the gypsies and the ex-captain Phoebus, you can bring them to the square tomorrow for their executions"-

Parallel to what happened in the Good Book which I so revere, peace was short-lived. Esmeralda's relieved look at escaping her demise changed instantaneously changed. _As_ if insulting _me _in front of _my_ people wasn't enough, that devilish gypsy harlot was now scowling at me. "No." she said calmly, venomously, emerald eyes boring into my soul like knives. "I have said yes to you, Frollo. You have won." Her voice was reluctant. "But this doesn't mean you can still imprison my people like criminals. Let them go and I… I will be truly yours." She looked away, humiliated at what she had compelled herself to say. _God, she is beautiful._ The caged gypsies gasped in dissent and tried to protest. The crowd descended into another upheaval. I felt duty-bound to end this commotion before answering the gypsy's ludicrous request.

"Quiet them, soldiers!" The guards complied, giving me an interval in which to voice my opinion, which is of the utmost importance with these misguided heathens.

"My dear Esmeralda," I purred, stroking her face delicately with the hand that wasn't holding the torch. She ferociously tried to bite my hand, and would've succeeded if it was not for my agile reflexes. "As appealing as the latter part of your proposition sounds… But I digress. I cannot let your people go. They are guilty of crimes of which the punishment is either prison or death. Therefore, the gypsies cannot and will not be released until they pay their dues, serve their time, or die in the process. I am a judge, after all. Justice is justice."

"You know what? You know what, Claude Frollo? _Fuck you._ Fuck you, you self-righteous bastard. I'll give you a stipulation now: let my people go and I will be yours; refuse to do so and… I'd rather burn. Burn me if you dare, if you do not let them go- _all of them_- burn me_._"

At that moment, my poorly-concealed temper was bubbling dangerously over the rim of the proverbial pot. The onlookers who were about to exit the square ran even faster, feeling and wanting to escape the high tension flowing in the late night air between me and the gypsy. I held the torch of fire fast in my hand, even still, so Esmeralda could not try anything dangerous. That witch, that Jezebel…that temptress looked at me with a permeable fire within her eyes- the fire that fueled my lust. Just looking at her in her prisoner's garb, (which was very thin) the slight curve of her breasts, her hips, and the silky raven hair upon her head, coupled with her gemstone eyes aroused in me sinful thoughts.

How could this happen? I'd gone from anger to lust in mere seconds. I felt debilitated, weak, this had to be remedied. I put on a mask of pure hatred and turned towards the remaining mob- The sky is completely moonless, so I am unquestionably looking downright monstrous against the fire.

"Crowd! Do you see the sheer audacity of the gypsy in front of me? The dauntlessness that might've sealed the wax on her death certificate? If I were another man, she would be dead! If I were another man, she would be nothing but ashes now, riding on the wind! I gave her an ultimatum! I gave her choices! And she _still_ dares to insult me in front of you!" I raved and screamed, waving the fire.

(Esmeralda's POV)

Damsel in distress? I think not. I am positively not about to allow Judge Claude Frollo to intimidate me with fire. Am I afraid? Yes. Will I act afraid in front of _him_? No. Frollo seemed to be getting more and more furious by the second. His sharp-lined, pale face was turning a hideous shade of beet red; a strand of silver hair fell in front of his left eye and he pawed it out of the way to clear the way for more rage. I could see beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. The smell of smoke from his torch stung my eyes and left me coughing loudly.

"I am generous to this woman, and all she does is sully my endeavors, which I will not stand for!" he turned around rapidly, and to everyone's astonishment, doused the torch in a nearby bucket of water. "No. I will not burn this gypsy tonight. Nor will I burn any of her fellow gypsies either." Frollo must have heard my gasp of surprise, for he twisted in my direction. "Don't feel so relieved, gypsy- I wouldn't if I were you- because any step you take out of line will mean all of their deaths."

"Take the heathens back to prison, soldiers, now! Citizens, exit the platform and return to your houses immediately!"

I was afraid Frollo had forgotten me, and quite honestly, the ropes binding me to my pyre needed to be removed a long time ago. My extremities were almost completely numb and my lungs were choked with smoke. Only when the group was completely gone did Frollo turn to me. By now, the early morning was here with its light indigo sky and buzzing insects and I could see how exhausted he really looked. There were dark purple bruise-like shadows underneath his eyes and his whole frame drooped with somnolence. I was certain I looked no better. He simply stared at me for a short bout of time, as if searching my soul. It was piercing look which shook my very bones with its steely, obsidian intensity. He then drew a concealed stiletto out of his sleeve and cut my rope bindings. The early-morning light illuminated the veins in his alabaster skin, causing me to remember how frozen my own tanned appendages were. I aggressively rubbed feeling back into my arms and legs that existed visibly from my thin linen prisoner's shift- I almost collapsed at how horribly acute the pain was. I glanced at him in a silent gesture of hesitant thanks.

"I take it you're tired." It was not a question.

I nodded grimly, lips set in a thin line, avoiding his penetrating contemplation of my countenance; I was not eager to start my new life as Frollo's companion, and I was trying to adjourn our leaving as long as viable. "I am."

An awaiting horse-drawn, armored carriage was at the corner of the street when Frollo firmly pressed his thin hand into my back and slowly led me off the platform. I walked uneasily, warily- leaning some of my weight into Frollo's side. Perhaps he had held my hand too tight or for too long when he assisted me into the carriage, or sat too close across from me on the plush black velvet cushions- but I was much too tired to care or notice the signs that something was amiss in the judge. His movements were erratic as he shut the heavy curtains against the dawn light.

My senses were inane and dull and I was dozing off slowly, trying to keep my eyes open was a hard task.

The slow rocking movements of the carriage eventually lulled me into a dreamless sleep not unlike that of death.


End file.
